Second Rate
by Carrion's Comfort
Summary: Things end, but is that really the ending? Future Fic


Title: Second-Rate  
  
Rating: R for imagery, and implied violence.  
  
Category: Angst/Romance(Warning: here be darkness and demons)  
  
Spoilers: Oblique references to 'Phase One', but is better considered a future fic/AU, especially in regards to the whole 'Francie thing'.  
  
Disclaimer: They're not mine. It took me 24 steps to admit that. I had to do the class twice  
  
Archive: Ask if you want it  
  
Summary: Do you really think they'd get the happy ending they deserved?  
  
Notes: I apologise for the lack of updates for There But For The Grace Of You Go I, but the chapter I am at is extremely tricky. Just know that I have not given it up and I will continue. As for this, if this depresses you, I'm not surprised. Hell it depressed me and I wrote it. But remember if you keep going...I did warn you. Oh and all my mistakes are my own since I am beta-less  
  
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Over the years, I've become one of the best liars I know. I can lie to my friends, my family, my wife and to virtually everyone around me. But I can't lie to myself, or to him...my son.  
  
No not my son.  
  
Never my son.  
  
I was never 'dad' to him. I was always, and will always be, 'Will' to him.  
  
It's my curse in life to love people who don't love me back. Not the way I want anyway. Oh they love me as their best friend and surrogate brother, or as their virtual uncle; but never as husband, never as father.  
  
The day Michael was born, Syd refused to let me go into the delivery room choosing her father instead. I snuck in anyway -don't ask how, it involves a really boring tale of a spare set of scrubs and an easily swayed candystriper- and had to watch my fiancée crying out a dead man's name as if it were the only thing keeping her sane, not to mention conscious. Maybe it did. From the little I saw, Syd's labor was hard, really hard considering it was Syd screaming in pain -Syd, who could take almost any punch, roll with it, and deliver one twice as hard- but the moment Michael was born, Syd came alive again.  
  
I can still hear her talking to her red-faced angel. She only used that tone for one other person; and he'd been dead for eight months.  
  
From literally the moment of Michael's birth, he knew who his father was, and he knew it wasn't me. Don't get me wrong. Sydney is a good wife, but somewhere not-so-deep down, I don't think she's ever forgiven herself for marrying me. Since I am being honest, I'll say it right out...Sydney should not have married me.  
  
She was just so lost, so broken. She had never been so broken, not after Danny, not even after her mother's resurrection, but from the moment we first heard her screams from the bathroom - Sloane had arranged for Vaughn to be in exactly the same position as Danny, except he didn't stop there; he blinded him as well- to the moment the doctor told she was pregnant, we basically watched her like a hawk, terrified she'd do something stupid.  
  
There was no Sloane to go after this time -he had buried himself beyond even Sydney's reaches- no SD-6 to bring down, there was only herself to blame (whether that was true in actual fact or not), and there was no Vaughn this time to save her from the darkness and from herself.  
  
That's not true though, and I promised that I would be honest, since I'm not with anyone else.  
  
Michael Vaughn did manage to pick up the pieces, despite the fact that we buried him.  
  
After she found out she was going to have a baby, Sydney consciously started taking care of herself. She ate properly, stopped the 3am, four mile runs, and in general acted like the Sydney we knew. But her heart wasn't fully in it. And then I started getting pushy, and Francie helped, and Jack helped, and I now hate them for helping, as I hate myself for pushing her.  
  
You know what they say about good intentions.  
  
Considering the fact that Syd's been a spy for a damn long time, she is fairly easily to manipulate.  
  
I told you I was going to be honest, and I know from experience that true honesty is usually extremely painful and always very ugly.  
  
I told her that it would be in the best interests of the baby, that she needed help, that she couldn't do this on her own. I told it to her everyday, many times a day and even Jack and Francie started getting in on the act.  
  
And we wore her down.  
  
When she said 'yes' to me, for one moment, I felt complete happiness, and then I looked at her, saw how we chipped away at her remaining strength and I began to hate myself, and then I started lying to myself, convincing myself that it would get better, that we would be able to get past this, that ultimately Syd would love me the way she was meant to, the way I had always wanted her to.  
  
She spent the night before our visit to the registry, in the cemetery, crying, explaining, and asking him to come back, to be with her, with his son.  
  
I didn't have a Buck's Night, but trust me; I got very drunk that night.  
  
Our wedding night was possibly the most depressing experience I've ever had. After...well after, when she thought I was asleep, I heard the shower going full blast, and when she returned, I could see her skin was raw from scrubbing. She curled up in the rocking chair, a gift from Vaughn's mother, held Michael close and wept till she fell into a restless sleep.  
  
We go on pretty much like the best friends we should have stayed, but at night, on the rare times I still try to act like her husband, Syd never can bear to look at me, during or afterwards, and she rolls away as soon as she thinks I'm asleep. I hardly ever fall asleep those nights. Self-loathing and guilt kinda make it hard, but for both our sakes, I pretend to.  
  
It's much less painful that way, for the both of us. At least then we can pretend, if not to ourselves, then at least to each other.  
  
I suppose I should be grateful that we've never had children. All I can feel though, is envy for the dead man who still has everything I want. We found out that Michael was basically a fluke, that with all the trauma Syd's body has taken, it would be very unlikely for her to conceive naturally, or even carry a baby to term for that matter.  
  
After the doctor's pronouncement, we never brought the subject up again, and I try very hard not to remember the fleeting look of relief that passed over Syd's face.  
  
So I threw myself into being the best father I could to Michael, except I wasn't his father and he has never treated me as such. I'm 'Will' to him, a fun guy to be around when Mommy is busy. When he mentions my name he smiles. But when he talks of his father, his whole face shines with the perfect unquestioning love of a child.  
  
In a rare moment of group-sharing, before everything went to hell, when Syd smiled with her eyes as well as her lips, she mentioned that Vaughn's biggest hero was his Dad -Vaughn then corrected her by saying that actually she was his biggest hero- and it eats me up inside that Michael says the same thing about a man he's never met and will never meet.  
  
It's childish, petty and just plain sad...I know this, but you can't help what you feel. God if that were the case, I would have stopped loving Sydney years ago. But I can't. Just like she can't love me the way I want her to. Just like Michael will never see me as his father.  
  
I shouldn't complain though. I got what I asked for.  
  
I married Syd; it's just that most of the time she can't bear looking at me, since it reminds her that I am here, and he is not.  
  
I have a beautiful child with Syd; except that he's not mine, will never be mine and has no inclination to think of me as anything but a 'cool guy'  
  
I've never wanted to be anyone's second choice, but that's all I've ever been, to Syd and to Michael.  
  
The runner-up  
  
Second-rate. 


End file.
